Supremacy
by Unbroken Record
Summary: In the early years of the Locust-Human War, two species are locked in bloody battle for dominance of Sera. However, a veteran Gear may soon realise he's not as superior as the COG's propaganda would suggest.
1. Chapter 1: Don't Wait Up

We'd been driving for hours now. The treacherous terrain's endless competition with the Armadillo's wheels and suspension did nothing for my nerves, and when there was a resounding _bang_ as something hit the external plating, it jolted us all up quickly, the rook in particular.

"What the hell was that? One of their RPGs?" Matthews asked, audibly exasperated and frightened, judging by the speed at which he spoke and the high pitch of his voice.

"Ya mean one of their "boom-shot" things or whatever they call 'em?" Darcy chimed in. Darcy was our techie, pretty damn attentive kid if you ask me. Only guy I know to call their grenade launcher thingie what they call it, even if it does sound like it was named by a five year old. Still, the guy knew his guns, both ours and theirs. He was also the only person in my squad who had the sense to _take off_ his helmet.

"Nah. Small arms." Kleiner corrected Matthews, completely ignoring Darcy. Kleiner was the one kid I wasn't particularly fond of in this squad. Sure, he was collected, level-headed and followed orders well, but that was exactly what I didn't like about him. He was only fresh out of training and he acted like he knew everything about warfare. His sole redeeming quality was his skill with a Longshot.

"Why are they shooting at us anyway?" Matthews asked, his usual whiny tone a welcome relief from the sound of that gruff military hard-ass voice people tried too hard to put on these days. I had to admit, I've never been so glad to hear a man gripe than I have when listening to Matthews. Lets you know you're still among humans when somebody cannot stop bitching and moaning about something.

"Because they're the enemy, genius," Kleiner told him in a tone that just dripped with "I'm better than you." Scuttlebutt back at base indicated that Kleiner himself was of rich, wealthy background before E-Day and his conscription, raised as a real momma's boy who didn't quite know how to deal with the outside world. You could tell, I thought. He was either a jackass or a would-be smooth criminal who recited exactly what his DI had told him during training.

"No, I mean, why are we getting shot at on the way there? I thought this was _our _territory!" Matthews continued, punctuating his speech with a rather emotive hand gesture that I didn't quite recognise.

"Because _our _territory in this area is about to become compromised, Private," I spoke up, drawing their attention. Up until that point I'd sat there in silence, deep in thought about various things; mainly whatever the hell they were talking about, though. Outside, I could hear somebody - definitely a human, his voice was too high-pitched to be Locust - yelling something I couldn't quite discern before I heard the distinctive thudding of a Troika turret pumping out high-calibre rounds, presumably blowing the source of the yell to little pieces before it decided to swivel round to rattle our cage for a little bit. It stopped after a moment; after we'd turned a corner sharply and presumably left its LOS, I noted as I shot forwards in my seat.

Darcy seemed to be choking for a moment after that and Matthews broke out into a momentary coughing fit, such was the way they'd been flung into their seatbelts. After a moment, Matthews continued; "Couldn't we have taken a King Raven or something? I think it'd be a little less jumpy, sir!"

"Ya think, Matthews? I doubt it. I hear you emptied out your breakfast onto your CO on your first ride on one of them things. Really think it's _less jumpy?_" Darcy said, grinning slightly as he reached over to give Matthews a friendly dig on the arm. Matthews seemed to be disheartened, offended or embaressed, not that I could tell through that helmet - but regardless, he was silent for a moment, so I answered his question.

"A Raven couldn't take off in this sort of hotzone, let alone deploy a squad. Seeders are shitting out Nemacyst like no tomorrow. Skies are full of them, rook. Were you even _listening_ during the briefing?" I asked him, my tone becoming caustic towards the end of my question. The Private shrugged haplessly and I couldn't help but smile faintly at the kid's naivity.

Another projectile hit us abruptly, which struck with a distinctive thud and then a bang on its own as it detonated, which could have easily ripped the APC open had luck not been with us. "Sweet mother of God!" Damask, our driver, shouted, eliciting a brief, somewhat nervous laugh from Matthews until she turned around in her seat to glare at the man, silencing him quickly enough.

"…Now _that _was one of their RPGs," Kleiner continued, almost lecturing Matthews. I could almost imagine the little shit's smug smarmy grin beneath the two-eyed helmet of his. Matthews swallowed and nodded awkwardly. I couldn't quite tell what had scared him more; the Boomshot shell or Damask. Hellcat, she was. Mighty fine hellcat at that.

She was the only officer among us, at the rank of Second Lieutenant. At thirty-two (you'd never guess by looking at her, though) that was quite impressive. That thought, in turn, led me to remembering that I was the second oldest of the group (the oldest person who would be deployed on foot) at twenty-nine. Darcy and Kleiner were both in their early twenties and hell, Matthews was only nineteen. All of them had negligible levels of prior experience, whereas I had experience from the closing years of the Pendulum Wars and the past year or so fighting these monstrosities. That was slightly unnerving, and although the effective training regime was part of the reason I was proud to be a Gear, I knew that no amount of training could replace or surpass field experience. Still, though, they could do their job. Hopefully. I pushed such thoughts from my mind, regardless.

Damask herself was sitting at the back of the vehicle. Due to the placement of the door, which itself was there to facilitate quick deployment and extraction of soldiers, the driver of an Armadillo sat at the far end of the APC near the back, with a control panel, a steering wheel, pedals and a monitor, which provided several feeds from small, external cameras to give them visual of the outside. She consulted the APC's integrated Tac-Com's navigational system, which calculated the speed the vehicle was travelling against distance to our destination to produce a time. "ETA five, Gunny," She said. I nodded and cleared my throat before addressing the guys.

"Alright, listen up, fellas, and listen good because I seriously cannot be assed to say this again. Y'all who listened to the briefing should be fine, but in case none of you dipshits did, here's the score."

"This city, Dariah, has recently came under assault by Locust. They've moved quickly, quicker than we could handle and they've already entrenched themselves. Gear check while I'm speakin'! Go!" I trailed off at that and started looking over my gear, as did the rest of the squad in synchrony. I started easy, checking my Bolos first. As far as they weighed, they seemed to have the right amount of explosive in the casing, and the swinging chains all extended to their full length.

I then checked my Snub Pistol. Standard-issue sidearm, been in service since about half-way through the Pendulum Wars. Of course, they released a new variant shortly after the Locust popped up, upping the calibre to .50 for extra stopping power and weighing down the grip for recoil compensation and, presumably, pistol whips in CQB. Mine was devoid of modifications, completely normal.

"Around the city are several Seeders, as I mentioned, which are filling the skies with Nemacyst, making proper air support impossible. We've got a lot of boys on the ground trying to clear a path towards the Seeders' positions."

I looked over my Lancer next, checking the load and giving the chainsaw a test-rev. Whoever decided to put a chainsaw on a gun, I gotta try what he was on when he came up with that idea. A lot of Gears, myself included, reported difficulty in balancing the weapon after the new bayonet was mounted, so I'd taken the liberty to add an extended, weighted stock to mine. Made it a bit heavier, but I could handle it, and on the plus side it was easy to aim and fire. The extra weight behind it put more force behind bayonet lunges as well, and the almost negligible recoil was dampened even further now, too. I think I'm a genius sometimes, you know?

"Kilo Squad - that's us - are being inserted via armoured personnel carrier, in case you missed that--" I paused to rap my knuckles against the side of the vehicle I was sitting against, "--to a position closest to one of the Seeders, designated B, as we can get to on wheels before the road becomes to rough and heavy with resistance. Whiskey and November Squads are going after Seeders A and C." I slung my Lancer over my shoulder after finishing speaking, pausing for breath.

"Now satellite recon suggests that there's a path to cut through this district of the city that should lead us right to the Seeder. What we do is we go down Harson Street, which is a long, relatively intact stretch of road that's packed with Grubs."

Lastly, I took my Gnasher shotgun from my back and looked over it lovingly. This was no normal Gnasher - first of all I'd extended and weighted the weapon's stock, even though most variants nowadays had none to speak of. The most notable non-standard modification on the thing was the large, razor sharp blade protruding from the end of the stock, for pinioning and hamstringing opponents. In the hands of somebody who wasn't the man who designed it, you'd cut into your shoulder or your side if you fired it wrong. Even I had to be careful with it. But still, combined with the reinforced barrel that made clubbing and bludgeoning all the more possible and the bayonet lug just in front of the shotgun's slide, I'd turned a terror in close quarters combat into a nightmare. The thing had served me well since the Pendulum Wars, and I was still reluctant to let any techs get their hands on the thing, let alone anyone else.

I call her Sue, after my ex-wife. Fierce and resilient, just like her. 'course, she was a real bitch, so sometimes I like to imagine I'm swinging her head first into a Grub's jaw when I'm makin' PEZ dispensers out of them, which, call me crazy, I find to be absolutely hilarious. No matter what sort of indicator that might have been towards how my sanity was holding up, it did give me a boost in morale. I rolled it over and over in my hands before running a finger across the rear blade.

I then noticed that the rest of the squad were looking at me expectantly, and I'd been silent for the better part of thirty seconds in my thoughtful examination of the weapon. I caught Damask smirking coyly and mouthing something about men and their guns. I shushed her with a gesture and a smirk of my own before I continued.

"We're gonna split into teams of two and take opposite sides of the street. One team's gonna go through the ground-level buildings on the right side, and the other's gonna go through the second floor of a long-ass apartment block on the left. That way we should be able to flank the bastards, with the team on the left getting a nice vantage point to pick them off while me and someone else draw their attention from the right." I said, securing my combat knife in place on the underslung lug of my Gnasher before clipping it to my back.

"Two minutes," Damask said, consulting the Tac-Com once again. I nodded at her and we locked eyes for a moment. Again, there was a silence, so when Kleiner coughed loudly and pointedly (jackass) I pulled my eyes away from the lady and back to the squad.

"Uh, Gunnery Sergeant Dawson? How are we gonna kill the Seeder?" Matthews asked, addressing me by my full rank which irked me to no end. "Yeah," Kleiner continued for him, "you usually need a Hammer of Dawn to take them down, but none of us seem to have one. What are we gonna use, harsh language?" Smug. Little. Fucker.

"Kleiner, can the attitude." I hissed at him. I couldn't see his face but I could tell he wasn't having any of it, but still he'd shut up for a moment. "That's where our friend Jackie-boy comes in." I gestured through the roof of the APC to where I suspected was the JACK storage module, on the back of the vehicle.

"Our unit has been modified with a specialised laser designator in the place of some of his ancillary systems, namely weapons maintenance and field surgery equipment. Shit we won't need if we do our jobs right. The designator is basically a miniaturised Hammer of Dawn, and once the laser's got some co-ordinates, the JACK beams 'em up to the satellite. Anyway, once we've cleared Harson, we could either be scot-free or in shit creek without a paddle, 'cause satellite recon became useless shortly after that point. Proximity to the Seeder is fucking up their readings. Regardless, we are to proceed from that point onwards. Estimation places the Seeder about a quarter-klick northeast from that position. We escort the JACK there, cover it while it lines up a few orbital blasts and poof, no more Seeder, job done."

"We should be able to triangulate the Seeder's position by looking at where the Nemacyst are rising from. Apart from that, we don't know the condition of the buildings or the streets so it's really hit or miss as to how long it takes for us to reach the thing. But we _will_ get there," I said, gesturing with my hands held flat-down out in front of me to emphasise the point, "and we will kick its mortar-shitting ass back to whatever subterranean hell it crawled out of." I brought a closed fist into my palm at that, and there was a few approving nods from the boys. Darcy gave a little "whoop" and pumped his fist while Matthews muttered, "for the Coalition.". So morale was good, I noted.

"Assuming November and Whiskey are as successful as we are, the skies will be clear of Nemacyst, which deprives the Locust of their sole advantage against us in this area. Then the flyboys," I held up my hand, pointing it flat forwards, as though imitating a bird's (specifically a Raven's in this case) beak, as I spoke, "can swoop in," I brought my hand smoothly downwards at an angle as to imitate a bird of prey's dive, "and carpet bomb the fuckers to kingdom come. As a footnote, there is believed to be a small Stranded population living among the ruins, but we probably won't encounter them. Still, if we do, try not to breathe the same air as them."

"Thirty seconds," Damask informed me. I nodded.

"You fellas ready?" I asked them. A rhetorical question if there ever was one - they were all ready and I knew it. They all nodded and gave me a "yes, sir" regardless. "Alright. Remember your training," I said, forcing a reassuring smile upon myself, "and you will make it back alive."

"For the Coalition." I stated, going over the old oath in my mind as I did. It was my - our - duty to humanity to complete this mission.

"For the Coalition," the squad responded in unison, as mantra.

"Ten seconds to insertion point," Damask commentated, "I won't bother counting down for you boys, you can do it yourself." So I did. The time went quickly and the APC slowly came to a halt in this time.

"Here we are. Perimeter… seems to be clear," Damask said, pursing her lips as she reclined in her driver's seat, tapping a few buttons and nodding before sitting forwards once again. "Dismount at will, Kilo Squad. Good luck." All our eyes were on the door, situated at the front of the Armadillo.

Eventually, Darcy reached over and pulled back the lever. The door of the APC receded into the roof, exposing us to the first glimpse of natural light I'd seen in a few hours. Matthews, who was sitting opposite him and next to me, went out first. He seemed uneasy and hurried into a position of cover as he went outside.

Darcy himself went next, him having sat opposite Matthews. He did a quick look around the area before assuming position next to Matthews. Kliener, who'd been sitting opposite me, gave me a knowing, probably mocking sort of nod before he himself clambered out of the vehicle, disappearing to its side next to the building we'd parked up near.

I standing up and halfway out the door when Damask called out to me.

"Eric?" She was probably the only person who still called me by my given name rather than surname, rank, or "asshole". I turned to face her, moving a few paces back up the APC towards her before she spoke again.

"Come back in one piece, would you?" She said with a playful smirk, culminating her rhetorical question with a wink. Almost immediately I could feel blood rushing to my cheeks, but I thought nothing of it as I leaned forwards, taking her hand and giving it a quick squeeze.

"Hah. Don't wait up for me, _Vera_," I replied in a slow, almost sing-song tone of voice, accompanied with a cocky grin, before we both nodded at each other and I released her hand. With that over and done with, I turned around and climbed out of the APC. Blinding sunlight hit my eyes as my feet hit the ruined pavement, and the vehicle's frontal door closed shortly afterwards.

Fraternization? Why, what fraternization are you talking about?

Still with an absent smile on my face, I quickly surveyed the surrounding area before seeing a two-way junction down the road from us. I assumed that that was Harson Street. "Alright, Kilo. Haul ass." I ordered, and the four of us began to move with the JACK trailing at our flank, leaving Damask and the Armadillo behind us.


	2. Chapter 2: Keep Me Posted

We proceeded down the road at a relatively leisurely but still quite rapid pace, and we were at the junction in around thirty seconds. Confirming my suspicions, across the road from where I was, a worn sign that read "HARSON STREET" was just barely hanging onto the side of a ruined building. About a metre to the left of and a couple inches below this sign was a doorframe, itself about as tall as me, and directly inside I could see a flight of stairs. Given the height and perceived length of the building, I deduced that this was the long apartment block from the briefing.

I flattened my back to the wall at the end of the road and leaned out to get a look around the corner. What I saw was disheartening, but still, rather normal considering the standards of today. There was a _lot_ of Grubs down that way, at the very least twenty amidst a lot of wreckage blocking the road. Through the buildings was probably the only clear path. I pulled my head back and pressed a finger against my earpiece and spoke up, radioing back to the APC.

"Second Lieutenant," I addressed Damask formally for the benefit of the squad and whoever may have been eavesdropping on that frequency, "there's around two-dozen Drones on this street. Mostly standard infantry, no support from Troikas, snipers, or Boomers by the looks of things. Just a heads-up."

"Roger that, Dawson. Thanks for the intel. Keep me posted." Came her response. I nodded to myself and lowered my hand, instead resting it on the front of my Gnasher. To be perfectly honest, I didn't really know why I'd decided to radio back to her, seeing as she was only, quite literally, down the street from me. I looked back towards the parked Armadillo, its featureless drab-coloured form giving nothing away about its occupant. I guess I just wanted to know she was still there. Can never be too sure.

I took another quick look around the corner, scouting out the enemy's positions, before turning back to the squad. "Alright. Darcy and Kleiner, I want you two to make a break for those apartment blocks on my signal. Be quiet about it too, we do not want to alert the Locust just yet. Once you're up there, secure a block 'round the middle and take separate positions at the windows. Assuming you accomplish this without alerting the enemy, frag the bastards till you run out of grenades." I explained. The plan seemed to work for Darcy. "Alright, yeah," he agreed, scratching the bridge of his nose with a gloved knuckle as he spoke. Kleiner just nodded.

"Me and Matthews are gonna take the ground-level path through the stores. If all goes to plan, we should be able to flank the Grubs." I informed them, looking at Matthews while lightly kicking back at the wall I was leaning against. The rook nodded a few times over, but I could hear his breathing being slightly erratic and him mumbling to himself a bit. I frowned briefly at this realisation but wiped it off my face just as quickly.

I'd seen the door to one of the stores about two metres from the point at which we'd turn the corner. If we pushed ourselves, we could get there in a second or two, and if we kept low then there was a burnt-out car frame in the way that would conceal our movement. Seeing as Grubs had no visible ears, them hearing us wouldn't be a problem at this range.

I knew that the sort of small shop building in this sort of street would usually have an entrance to the adjacent shop in the building, which would be how we'd be moving through. The buildings looked intact enough, which was a bonus, but I wasn't going to count on it. After Emergence Day, you couldn't trust any building that hadn't been fortified in the aftermath.

My choice of teams was simple. Kleiner's attitude would have grated at me to hell and gone and unnerved Matthews even further, who was probably going to be as jittery as it was against such superior numbers. Darcy, on the other hand, was level-headed and didn't really give a fuck about Kleiner and his mouth, which was a quality that Matthews (who was apparently easily offended and distracted, even in the heat of battle) and myself (who just despised the man with a passion) both lacked.

Plus, I'd be able to oversee how Matthews faired in combat personally. I'd already decided I'd request Kleiner's transfer to another squad after this mission was done, so it was a matter if seeing Matthews would be better off in another unit as well.

Truly competent Gears were quite hard to come by these days, and you mostly had to make do with what you got. But I was really picky to the point of being a pedant. Kleiner and Matthews had been moved to Kilo after they graduated from Basic, to replace two guys who'd copped it, last mission we went on. Me and Darcy were the only two who crawled out of that, and consequently, Darcy was probably the only one of these guys I could trust. And Damask, of course, but she didn't really count, what with her being in the APC.

I looked around the corner again for another split-second before taking a deep breath and turning back to the squad. "Alright, you fellas ready?" I asked, quietly this time. They all nodded in response so I mimicked their motion and closed my eyes for a moment, sighing. Even after all this time in combat zones, it was still incredibly hard to prepare myself for going into a life-threatening situation. I dunno why - just how my head works, I guess. Putting other men and women in such similar positions just makes it harder. Usually, it's only that little voice in my head that tells me "fuck it all - do it anyway" that gets me going.

And yeah, I was pretty sure it was saying that to me now.

I opened my eyes and took one last look at the guys before nodding once again, more to myself than anyone else, and speaking briefly and concisely directly afterwards;

"Alright. Move it! Go!"

Kleiner and Darcy broke off into the traditional "roadie run" crouching sprint manoeuvre, an age-old staple of Gear training, as I gestured haphazardly with my hand towards the door across the road. They moved swiftly but with a surprising relative absence of noise other than their ragged, hasty breathing and the occasional clink and clank of armour and equipment.

Without even waiting to see if they'd made it across, I clipped Matthews round the shoulder to hurry him into moving as well, and he immediately sprang into action. I figured that if the kid didn't make it to the ground level door or the Locust spotted him, then at least I could cover him while he was out in the open.

By the time that briefest of thought-chains had culminated, the kid had already cleared the gap between him and the door and was slipping inside, so I followed his example quickly and quietly. Matthews had already taken position on one side of the door, so I quickly did the same. I could get an alright view of the Locust positions outside from where I was, so that's exactly what I did. They hadn't noticed us yet.

I peered up to the windows I anticipated Kleiner and Darcy to be near, examining their would-be positions for any sign of movement. Nothing. _It's alright_ I told myself, _they'll get there._ Fact of the matter was that I wasn't used to this sort of operation. I'm usually very meticulous and when I'm not I act on instinct. I also certainly wasn't used to sneaking past the enemy. Back in the day, I'd been trained as general infantry, not the sort who sneaks through ruins.

Still, as I try to keep reminding myself, you have to just make do. I do, the CoG does with people like me, and Vera (sorry, _Second Lieutenant Damask_) does, apparently, with people like me. Way of the world.

Vanquishing such distracting thoughts from out my skull, I looked back at Matthews, who'd been looking at me expectantly all this time. I gave him a curt nod in delayed acknowledgement before motioning for him to move up across the room, towards a door I had every reason to believe led to the adjacent shop, or at least the next room.

The rook moved quickly and almost waded straight through the door before his hand lashed out and caught the side of the frame, and he hurriedly pulled back and took position behind the part he'd grabbed. I did the same as he did on the opposite side, only pausing for a second before I looked round the corner. Nothing.

Of course, I'd been able to see there was nothing the moment I got a sight on the door. Stopping to take cover was considerate of the rook, but it was shaping up to be just another bad mark on his record.

It felt a bit ridiculous, all the attention I was giving to the rook on such an operation. But still, better make sure he can handle himself early in the mission than later on, when we're past Harson and not on a straight, simple path.

The next room looked like it was some kind of video rental store back in its prime, the way the shelves were arranged to produce "aisles". 'course, this wasn't the case anymore. Dust, debris and detritus all over the place. Most of the shelves were tipped over and it smelled like there were more than a couple dead bodies underneath them, so I bit down on my lip and swallowed hard to fight off my immediate urge to empty the morning's rations out on dirt as my nose caught up with the pungent stench.

Through Matthews' helmet, I could tell he was looking at me concernedly, as though he didn't know what was wrong. Of course, the lucky bastard was wearing his helmet and couldn't smell a damn thing. Times like these when you start to regret ditching yours somewhere. I waved him off and forced a weak smile.

Maintaining the cautious silence as I eyed the window at the front of the store for any sign of Grubs, I kept the two of us moving across the rental. I had my foot through the door to whatever was next when I heard an explosion. Flinching and hunching down reflexively as though I'd been socked in the ear, I swore loudly.

Then another. Explosion, I mean, not another swear. Precision is key when you're effing and blinding, after all. This one was accompanied by several gutteral screams, so I assumed the grenade had found its quarry well enough I glanced back at Matthews, who seemed equally riled, then gestured with a forwards-tip of my head.

"Guess the other two move faster than us. Let's go." I said, hefting my Gnasher as I broke off into a dash through to the next building. Another grenade detonated outside and another, the sounds growing increasingly louder as I proceeded. Matthews kept close behind me, occasionally giving his Lancer a reassuring rev as though the sound of a shrieking chainsaw comforted the kid.

We both paused and took cover next to a broken front window as I caught a glimpse of Drones moving outside, counting the almost deafening booms up to eight before I nodded at the rook and made the first move.

**(Shorter than the last one and definitely lacking in pacing somewhat, but eh, I wanted to move the story along. The next chapter will be longer, contain gratitutious violence and should hopefully get the story rolling properly. I'd appreciate some reviews, and please, be as brutal as you like - could do with some decent criticism to improve on.)**


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